


After Hours

by Kettugasm



Category: The Lorax - Dr. Seuss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kettugasm/pseuds/Kettugasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even nightmares have to sleep sometime</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

> I am a bad person. But I watched some of the Lorax while waiting for THE AVENGERS tonight, and… well… I wrote this for my Oncie, Tory<3 fyi, this is all based on the headcanon/AU/universe/WTF EVER of this amazing askblog, askgreedlerandoncie, and stuff.

“When I am finished with work, you are in SO MUCH TROUBLE,” he had said, and he was right-pressed to make good on his threat. The other had pleaded for him not to be rough, not to be stern, to simply come home and cuddle. But he never did like to cuddle, it just wasn’t him.

At such a pansy request, he had simply laughed in the other’s face, responding with the loud slam of the office doors.

Hours had past, and it had gone far later into the night that he had expected, eyelids drooping as his head nearly hit the desk on multiple occasions. The work was piling up so much these days, but as were the enormous piles of cash, yet he desperately wanted more.

Being a manifestation was a difficult thing. You were the projected emotions and thoughts of a person, given form in this world, but you really didn’t exist. You were a sophisticated hallucination, having your own thought process, your own will, but you were still just part of your original. And would always be.

There were other types of manifestations, ones who took on the form of lost loves, hated rivals and the like, but he was nothing more than the embodiment of the greed that festered in the back of his mind. He had no purpose in life but to crave, to desire, to want and want. So, he remedied that as best he could.

He took and stole and biggered and biggered until he thought he could bigger no more.

But the nagging never went away.

A low snarl left his lips as he stumbled down the empty hallways, pushing his tired form into the bedroom. He was exhausted even if he wasn’t physically all there, he merely felt tired. Growling, he threw off his hat, undressing himself as he staggered towards the bed and the sleeping form within it.

No purpose, no place in life, no freedom, really. He could barely spend an hour away from his original before he had begun to sink back into the realm of passing daydreams and distant memories. He felt almost like a limb cut off from the main body, but he would never want to slip back into the other’s mind and fade away, forgotten.

Sitting down on the bed with a gruff noise, he laid on his side, facing away from the one sleeping beside him, trying to rest his tired form. He did not sleep, as manifestations, no, nightmares had no need for such a bodily activity. Try as he might to rest, he could not ignore the sound of the breathing behind him.

Sighing, he rolled over, simply staring at the sleeping form, reaching a gloved, clawed hand out to brush a stray lock of hair from the others face. This surely was some form of torture, to be alive without really existing. He shook his head, arms wrapping around him tightly, drawing him into a tight embrace.. He wanted so badly, but what? To have that ever-consuming ache of greed, but not know what you want, it was cruel.

So… cruel…

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: askgreedlerandoncie.tumblr.com


End file.
